


Binding Tales

by Shantae



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: descriptions of blood and violence, implied raven/lucius but its like super minor, it's not that bad though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 00:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11047293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shantae/pseuds/Shantae
Summary: Very short stories based on numerous supports in FE6. T rating is for violence.





	Binding Tales

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many chapters this is going to get nor if i'm actually going to continue this, since this was basically something to get me out of writer's block. sorry if it's confusing.

Wounds had always scared him.

 

Not scratches and bruises, he would get those frequently when he was younger, when there was time and place to play outside with his brother and his best friend, and when Raven would watch over them, making sure nothing would happen to them.

 

No, it were the big, gaping wounds, the long cuts, deep stabs, that scared him to death. Wounds that bled and bled, red streams and spurts signing that life was ending. It was how Raven died, and how Father Lucius died, and that was enough for him to panic as soon as someone around him sustained a wound, however small it may be.

 

It was, of course, impossible to avoid having to see the wounded in war, but he couldn’t help turning pale and trembling uncontrollably at the sight of a wounded companion when he remembered how Father Lucius had laid there, unmoving, with a lance sticking out of his abdomen and a look of horror on his face. Even when Elen had taught him how to use healing magic and how to remove those wounds, it still scared him, because, what if he couldn’t help? What if his magic didn’t work? What if he was too late?

 

Chad didn’t know how to comfort him, although he tried, Lugh knew. Raigh called him a child, but Lugh didn’t care. He just never, ever, wanted to see someone he knew die ever again.

 

Of course, in a time of war, that wish couldn’t be granted.

 

*

 

Douglas did not make promises he couldn’t keep.

 

All she had asked for was that he promised not to attack Nabata, her desert, home of her and everything she had still left. And as much as he wanted to promise that, he couldn’t. He had no power, he was getting older and weaker each passing day. He would not be able to stop the other Etrurian nobles if they wanted to attack Nabata for any reason, he was but a knight that carried out orders for his king. So he told her that he would do his best to protect Nabata and that he would spread the word about the noble warrior from Nabata who fought for his king who that was not even her king.

 

Despite the disappointment in her eyes, she had still thanked him for something as little as that, and it was not the first time in his long life that Douglas despised the horror that their nation had become.

 

But when he felt the broadsword slice his chest diagonally through his armor, when he tasted blood in his mouth and heard the terrified screams of Lalum in the distance, his sweet, beautiful daughter, he couldn’t help but feel regret.

 

Surely Igrene would have been able to forgive a dead man for breaking his promise.

 

*

 

Chad had been angry at first, angry that she had tricked him in trusting her. But, no, that was wrong, he was the one who went to Elen, asking for her aid so that he could aid a traveler. But when she had told him that it was her country who started the war, he felt betrayed that someone who could look and feel so much like Father Lucius was from a country so despicable.

 

She had approached him, apologising and explaining that while she did come from Bern, she did not agree with the war, much like the king’s daughter Guinevere. She and Chad were on the same side. He had told her it was okay, it would take some time getting used to but it was alright, war would be way too simple if it was plain black and white, after all.

 

But when he woke up crying that night for the umpteenth time, feeling like his shirt was choking him while images of his best friends dying flashed through his mind he knew it was not okay.

 

*

 

The boy was nothing like Canas, and yet he reminded her so much of him.

 

Like Canas, the boy was so eager to learn the ins and outs of dark magic, to master it and become one of the strongest magic users in all of Elibe. Like Canas once was. But with great power came great responsibility, and she had to watch while her only son died because of his inability to control the ever growing darkness.

 

And even though Niime was old and even though her body was beginning to give up on her, as long as she was alive she would not let more lives be claimed by the power of dark magic.  So when the boy asked, no, begged her to teach him everything there was to know, she gave him a book full of ‘archaic scripts’, old runes that actually meant nothing at all. But it would keep him busy for a good while, until at least after this wretched war, and that was enough for Niime.

 

She would rather die and take all the secrets of dark magic with her than to watch innocent mages incapable of containing their power die to it.

 

*

 

He didn’t really know why he cared so much about the wyvern rider.

 

Perhaps it was a feeling that came with fatherhood. After Fir had left the house to travel the continent things had quieted down a lot, and any kind of interaction was very welcome. He didn’t really want to admit it, but that was also the reason why he had charged so recklessly head-first into the war. No daughter meant no responsibilities, and no responsibilities meant no restraints. And an unrestrained Bartre was like a bull on speed.

 

But he found Fir again before he even met the red headed wyvern knight, so that was no excuse. And while the boy was handsome, he knew his daughter had already set her eyes on someone else, and it was not his business who his daughter pursued in romance, as long as she was happy. So it was not like he was trying to set him up with her. 

 

Perhaps it was the way the boy put himself out there in battle. Bartre recognised it all too well; he was reckless, fierce and didn’t seem to care about his own well being all that much. It reminded Bartre of himself, in his younger days when he thought he had nothing to lose because he quite literally had nothing. He knew the boy was going to need someone to watch over him and make sure he didn’t do anything stupid before it was too late, even though it wasn’t any of his business.

 

But when Zeiss came to him once during battle and told him that he somehow felt safer out there when Bartre was near him, like something big protecting him, he couldn’t help but smile proudly and clasp an arm around the kid. And when the boy smiled back at him, a bit awkwardly, he knew in his heart that he could never let anything happen to this boy, and that he would protect him as if he were his own son.


End file.
